


A collection of oneshots and divergence

by atomixkills



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'll tag as I go along, No ship requests lol, Quackity angst, Toby Smith | Tubbo Angst, Villain Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), like fluff or whatever, pls send requests, trigger warnings in AUTHOR'S NOTES before every chapter if needed, we do angst tho, we dont do that here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomixkills/pseuds/atomixkills
Summary: TW ARE AT THE BEGINNING AUTHOR NOTES OF EVERY CHAPTER IF NEEDEDSend some requests and I'll try to write them! I'll tag as I go along
Relationships: None
Comments: 24
Kudos: 177





	1. Requests,,, hand them over pls

**Author's Note:**

> About the Author:   
> My writer tag is Zombie if y'all wanna address me like that (she/her, im 16 lololol)

Hello it's Zombie!! I already have a one shot written out for the next chapter however any ideas are welcome!!

That is, I won't be writing ships as that aint coolio but I think I have a knack for angst so!! That is a sure can do, and all triggers and possible content warnings will be placed at the beginning author note of every chapter. Obligatory fluff or lighter works are equally appreciated (cause I'm a sucker for it), so don't be shy if you would like something written :D !! I'm a student so bear with me if im slow tho


	2. It's negative attention at best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo should really drink more water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vomit, passing out  
> CW: heat exhaustion

The heat was beginning to creep up Tubbo's cheeks in the worst way possible. Nothing was cooling him down, not even the dodgy shade of the under-construction podium, not even sitting by the cool river during his quick breaks. Nothing. The bright, glaring sun remained at a constant, mocking Tubbo as he hauled stone after stone closer to his construction site.

He peered up at the towering podium, his heart skipping at the amount he still had left to remodel. Schlatt was going to yell at him if he didn't get at least half of it done by dinner. An impossible goal, but he didn't want to make him completely mad by not even trying.

And it didn't help that Fundy and George would often stop by, observing his process. It scared him to think that they would relay what they see to Schlatt- that they'd be adding fuel to the fire. So breaks were few and far between, always short enough that he couldn't run to fetch another couple of water bottles, but enough to catch his breath and wipe away his sweat at least.

Groaning in the effort, he lugged the last bit of stone he needed for the next bit, numbly taking note of the blur of orange fur in his peripheral vision. He was doing his job, he didn't need to worry.

But the sweltering heat made him feel sluggish, like he was stuck on lag or his limbs wouldn't move quite right. And maybe his delayed movements were a bit too noticeable to Fundy, as the orange fur was gone as soon as it appeared.

A small part of Tubbo wanted to believe that Fundy was just passing by- that he wasn't checking up on him and that he had somewhere to be- however a bigger panic sparked itself in Tubbo's chest. Fundy was going to tell Schlatt he was being lazy, isn't he? Schlatt was going to yell at him again, and everyone else is gonna laugh at him, and then he'll complain to Wilbur and Tommy and they'll laugh too because "Oh, classic Tubbo."

No- Tubbo felt his joints and muscles complain as he lifted his netherite pickaxe, the rays of the run blinding as it bounced off the tool, and began to desperately hack away at the old bits of the podium. He wasn't lazy, god damn it. He wasn't even tired, oh if only Schlatt could see him now. Not even the burning sun on his back could knock him to the cool stone rubble under him, making the world spin in and out of focus.

Nope, definitely not, not when the shards of broken stone poked painfully at his broiling cheeks and dug uncomfortably at him under his suit. Nope, because he was still breathing, even if every breath felt manual and forced because his lungs were on fucking fire along with what felt like his entire brain-

He was down, wasn't he? Every last bit of consciousness told him so as he cried out weakly, trying to sit up. His ribs protested fiercely against it, and his brain pounded at every small movement. He needed to keep going, he could sit down later.

Pain is temporary, Schlatt's anger is forever.

The thought both scared him and humored him as he slumped himself against the half remodeled podium, wheezy laughs leaving him with every short pant of air.

Eventually, he got up once more heavily leaning on the podium for support as dizziness overtook him. God, why didn't he just stay home today? Or at the White House? The White House had air conditioning; sweet, sweet air conditioning. Or hid at Niki's bakery, where she has iced drinks. Why did he have to be so scared of the damn devil himself?

More importantly, why did he find himself on the ground again?

Tubbo groaned tiredly, at least appreciating how the ground seemed to help his spinning head. The sun shone down daggers at him, and Tubbo reasoned that it was okay to shut his eyes. He'll just... catch his breath for a quick minute then get back to work. Right before Schlatt could see him slacking... Yeah. Just a minute.

Tubbo's eyes rolled back as the heat finally took its toll on the boy.

-

"Quackity," Fundy ran into the Vice President first, not exactly the man he was looking for, but he would do. "You got a minute?"

"Exactly a minute before Schlatt calls a meeting, why? Want some drugs or something?" He joked, bright smiles only dimmed by the tired eye bags forming under his eyes. It seemed that Schlatt was running everyone dry this week, Fundy noted with a twinge of guilt. His betrayal of Wilbur lingered like a ghost in the back head, always there to freeze him at times. 

It didn't help that Tubbo and Quackity were constant reminders of the good times before the election. Not to say he didn't enjoy their presence but...

Worry laced his voice as he began talking. "No- fuck no- Its- Listen Tubbo needs a break, he looks... “ That piqued the VC’s interest, his smiling faltering. Quackity was pretty young himself, but Tubbo was younger, it was hard not to view the boy as a younger brother. 

“He looks…?” Quackity pressed on, dark eyes glinting under the sun. Fundy pointed at the looming podium in the distance. 

“He’s all red in the face and breathin’ weird. He’s all… slow and tired looking.” He didn’t know how to explain it in a better way, but he knew something was wrong. The kid had been working for hours on end and the sun wasn’t exactly relenting as the hours marched into the afternoon, even if it was now technically fall. “I just needed help convincing Schlatt to let him go home early.”

“And you need my help for that?” Fundy nodded and Quackity shook his heady, brows furrowing as he grabbed Fundy by the arm and began a brisk pace back toward the podium. “No. I can deal with Schlatt later, we can’t have an 8 year old dying on our hands.” 

“Dying?”

“Fundy, it’s hotter than fucking hell out here, what, do you not know about fatigue?” Quackity glanced back at Fundy, a growing panic reflecting in both of their eyes.

“Of fucking course I do, I’m not an idiot. And nor is Tubbo, he isn’t that careless.” Fundy snapped, freeing himself from Quackity’s grasp as he matched his pace. “I know he had to have drunk water today.” He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince here.

“Right, cause you and George bring him water when y’all check up on him.” Quackity’s words weren’t accusatory but they stung in a way Fundy couldn’t place his finger on. “What about food? Or a helping hand? He’s literally doing hard labor dude. Any water he brought, he’s gonna need like… triple that.”

“He’s probably just tired. It’s not like you were helping either.” Fundy didn’t mean to sound agitated, but Quackity shrugged his words off as he nodded. “I know. I should’ve been doing more too.”

The rest of the way was filled with nothing but their footfalls and the crunch of a fallen leaf or two. Fundy found himself wishing that he had found literally anyone else to help him check up on Tubbo. The heavy silence between the two was suffocating, even if they were extremely close to the podium by now- the pile of neat stones blocking their view on where Fundy saw Tubbo last. He half expected to hear the incessant cling of a pickaxe breaking away at stone, but the silence stretched on. 

“Maybe he took a break…?” Quackity glanced at Fundy, who shrugged before they both heard it, a faint groan coming from behind the stones. 

They didn’t hesitate in investigating, worry preparing them for the worst. What they found was a passed out Tubbo on the ground, shallow breaths wheezing in and out rapidly. Quackity reacted first, kneeling besides the kid as his hands hovered, not sure what to do. Fundy did the same, not liking the way that Tubbo wasn’t even sweating at this point, or how his skin was flushed and warm to the touch as Fundy laid the back of his hand on Tubbo’s forehead. Quackity seemed to come to a consensus, as he stood up with an urgent sort of jerkiness to his movements. 

“Heat stroke, we need- Fundy grab his legs, we got to lower his temperature first. We gotta get him to the White House and then-” His words fell short as they began to find their grip on Tubbo, making quick work of carrying Tubbo to the White House.

“I’ll get Nikki and some ice from her place,” Fundy helped set him down on a bed in a spare room, not liking the way that Tubbo hadn’t woken up yet. “Where's Schlatt? I can probably keep him busy while Tubbo…" 

"Check my office, he was going over preparations for the festival last time I was there." Quackity shook his head as he unbuttoned Tubbo's blazer because who the fuck thought wearing a suit was a good idea while building an entire podium-  
"I'll yell if he needs an ice bath or something. We'll take turns distracting Schlatt." Quackity decided, hesitant on how exactly he'd do that, but he'd do it anyways. 

"Right." 

-

Tubbo woke with a headache, and groaned as the coolness on his forehead was removed. God, he felt sick as more and more of his senses came back. 

Feeling something being shoved at him, he weakly grasped it, feeling the trash bags plastic crinkle under his fingers as he hurled up nothing but stomach acid. There was nothing to vomit out, making him cough out in painful wheezes as his stomach protested against the cramps. 

"You're fine, you're fine." Tubbo continued to cough, noting the fingers combing back his hair as his fit of nausea subsided. 

Loudly whining, he rolled back to his previous position, leaning into the touch as whoever was in the room soothed him with quiet whispers. 

"Tommy?" He called out, confused as to who else was willing put up with his sick antics- was he sick? When did he get sick? "Wha' 'appened?" 

"The heat got you good. Next time pack some more water, will you?" Schlatt's voice finally registered itself in Tubbo's mind, and he tensed. Schlatt was the last person he had expected to be by his side. "Quackity and Fundy found you, they thought I'd be mad, and I didn't find out until Quackity slipped up…" 

"M?" Tubbo peered up at Schlatt's face, the blurred details of the president’s face hard to see in the lone lantern’s light that shone behind him. “You’re not mad?”

His voice was too raspy to be heard above a whisper, and Schlatt didn’t answer immediately, instead helping him to sit up slowly as he raised a glass of water to Tubbo’s lips, instructing him to drink slowly. Obeying, Tubbo took slow sips of the water, truly feeling how dehydrated he was as it took every last bit of willpower left in him to not start chugging. 

After several more moments, Schlatt lowered the glass, and Tubbo laid down once more as Schlatt cleared his throat. 

“I’m not mad.” Tubbo exhaled, nodding slightly, glad for that small reassurance. “Though I am annoyed that my right hand man believes that he should be working himself into his grave.” Red eyes peered down at him, and Tubbo looked away, embarrassed as memories of working away since the break of dawn filled his mind’s eye. “I know you’re scared of me, kid. But you’re no use if you’re dead, okay? Even fucking Fundy was worried and you had Quackity tripping balls over his own excuses.” 

“I wan’ Tommy.” Tubbo mumbled, not liking the feeling of Schlatt determining his value in any way. He just wanted his best friend- He’d even settle for Wilbur or Quackity (no matter how loud the latter was). “Sorry for passing out, it won't happen again Mr. President.”

Schlatt sighed, and in a lower voice, said, “I was worried too kid. You’re like the annoying brat of a brother I never had and if you make me repeat that I will see to it that someone will replace you as my protege because I will have killed you and made it look like an accident.” 

His threat hung hollow, and the hushed rushness of his words caught Tubbo in a surprise, as he turned his head to look at Schlatt, his own blue eyes slightly squinting as if he could focus on any deceit in his words.But Schlatt’s own red eyes didn’t look away, his stubbornness making him keep eye contact. Eventually Tubbo shrunk into the mattress, still exhausted, but no longer perturbed by the presence of his boss. A small, hesitant smile crept its way to his face. “Really, you mean that?”

“You’re a piece of shit, what did I just say?” 

“How do I know I’m not hallucinating?” Tubbo shot back, his sass endless even after the happenings of that day.

“Pinch yourself, fuck if I care.” If Schlatt took offense to the talk-back, he didn’t mention it. “Forget it, I’m going back to treating you like shit.” 

Tubbo snorted, hazily reminded of the banter he would have with Tommy and Wilbur before the elections. Like brothers, they always annoyed and entertained each other. What about this was different? 

Right. He’s a dictator who banished his family and is now acting like he can take over the role of a big brother only after the sun made him sick. How could he forget?

The thought was bitter, and almost kept Tubbo awake as he drifted asleep, but the sweet promise of sleep was too tempting for his aching body. “Do you mean it?” He didn’t think before he asked, and he could almost sense Schlatt tensing. 

Schlatt sighed, and his hand was back in Tubbo’s hair, combing through carefully. “Yeah. Long story short, you remind me of me when i was your age, believe it or not. I think… I think I used to have two older brothers as well. Now go to bed, before I start going soft on you, you still got work to do once you’re better.” 

“Can you tell me the story please?” Tubbo’s eyes shut, and he pulled the blanket closer around him.

“No.” Schlatt said firmly.

“Aw…” Whatever could be said next was replaced with soft snores echoing the room as Tubbo finally succumbed to sleep, and Schlatt huffed, but didn’t move.

Instead he began to mumble to himself, as if he was talking to Tubbo. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t born half goat, or devil, or whatever. I lived with what I think was my older brothers, until they were imprisoned when I was about sixteen…” 

And so the rest of Schlatt’s story fell upon deaf ears in the early night, with nothing but the moon to watch the sight.


	3. They call me a Bitter Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quackity is so very tired
> 
> Prompt by swoopitywoop: "Quackity angst maybe?? Like he gets too stressed out from all the things going on and just breaks down,"
> 
> Not written exactly how i had hoped but !! I hope this is okay (even if it's a tad short, forgive this tired zombie suffering thru junior year hnng)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack

Quackity glared down at his desk, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes as another yawn escaped past his lips. He didn’t even try to reach for his coffee, knowing that anymore and he’d risk a caffeine overdose. Already, his fingers trembled as he held his pen, shakily signing his name on yet another document for god-knows-what, and his other hand shook as he reached for another folder with more papers that needed revising and his signature. 

The manilla folder felt heavy, and that alone was enough to make him drop it, groaning as he wished he could just sleep for the night. He thought that he was past the age of late nights, filled with nothing but papers and deadlines. He had graduated from highschool for a reason, afterall.

But the neat handwriting of Schlatt’s instructions peeked at him from a sticky note on the corner of his desk. He needed to have finished all this paperwork hours ago, and the thought of it actually made Quackity a bit nauseous. How the hell did Schlatt expect him to work that fast? 

His mood plummeted, and he stood up, the heavy oak chair scraping against the floor with the abruptness. He’d have hell to pay tomorrow, and he’d have to smile through it. God, how did Tubbo do it, he thought bitterly. A kid with all smiles, facing Schlatt everyday and laughing several minutes later. 

His head pounded, and Quackity caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror hanging on his wall. His skin looked pale and sickly under the flickering light, and he couldn’t tell if it was the shitty lighting making his eyes darker or if that was the work of his eyebags. He looked… 

He looked away, and left his office, his head aching with some not-so-nice thoughts.

Tomorrow was another day.

-

“You’ve been acting like fucking shit these past few days.” Schlatt commented plainly as he set another stack of papers on Quackity’s desk. 

A week had passed and the vice president hadn’t seen a moment of peace. His stress was beginning to pile, and it was beginning to reflect on his actions. Short, snippy, and kind of jerky comments was all the rise you could get out of the man if you even so much looked at him. 

“Wonder why.” He didn’t look up from his laptop. He was terrified of even looking at another pile of paper with tiny, too small to read, fine print. 

“Keep being snappy and I can make your workload double. Catch me on a bad day and I’ll demote you.” Schlatt was unimpressed, and it was obvious that he was far from joking. And Quackity didn’t doubt him. So he stayed silent, biting his tongue as a rush of anxiety rammed into him.

He didn’t want double the load, damn it. He wanted a break, a day off, a… a… 

“Did I make myself clear?”

Quackity’s breath caught in his throat, heart hammering as he nodded. “Y-Yeah. Crystal.” 

He wanted some respect for once. But he was never going to find it, was he? Not with the devil himself looming over him, probably reveling in his subordinate’s silent plight. Not when George thought of him as a joke. Not when Fundy was willing to betray his own father to get to where he is now. Not when the child of their group was most obviously a double agent. 

He tried to breathe in, but no air entered his lungs. He tried again and felt the world start to close in around him. He was alone, wasn’t he? Who was going to help him now? 

His heart pounded a little too loudly for his liking. He tried to breathe again, this time he forced air into his lungs but couldn’t seem to get it out again. He couldn’t breathe right, holy shit, why can’t he-

“Oh and, do try not to wrinkle your suit. There’s a meeting at 6.” 

Quackity heard the door slam, and he spiraled deeper into his own mind as he slumped out of his chair and curled up under his desk as he began to cry. His heaving sobs broken as his lungs refused to cooperate normally as he tugged off his beanie in a fit of frustration. Pulling at his hair at random times, he tried to calm himself. This wasn’t good. Not in any way possible.

He didn’t move from his position until his tears had long run dry and the anxiety in his system had run its course, and even then, he randomly heaved in a shaky breath to steady himself. He felt weak, and this time in a very real, physical, sense. His limbs were languid in his movements to stand up, and his knees shook as he left his office, not bothering to close his laptop, check his new work pile, or fix his appearance. 

Tomorrow would be better.

And tomorrow is going to be better because Quackity was going to stay home, flip off Schlatt, and eat all of Nikki’s pastries. 

He wouldn’t resign from his position, he couldn’t leave Schlatt to call every shot. But the next day he felt so tired that he might have considered asking Tubbo how exactly to join this double agent business the kid had going on.


	4. If it costs me my life, I'd save my only friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by MJ: "Schlatt angst or whump?? Preferably like others feeling guilty e.g. He saves tubbo but gets hurt in the process" 
> 
> Hope u like it!! my longest piece yet i rlly,, and im so mad i missed halloween by like,,, 30 min.  
> \- Zombie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: near death, gaslighting/manipulation, mention of child neglect, mention of child abuse
> 
> okok those last two sounds bad but it's accusations
> 
> CW: Villain!Wilbur, Morally grey Schlatt???

The air in Manburg bristled with small talk as it's citizens weaved in and out the foot traffic. The early hours were always filled as such, easy laughter rising above the noise, and the shrieks of children distant as the school opened their doors. The roads would slowly open up as people finally got to their jobs, leaving those with a day off to converse or go about their business. 

Schlatt watched it all from his window, his room in the White House allowing him a perfect view of it all. This was his morning routine before his jammed packed schedule would catch up to him. He felt a bitter sort of pride in his country. Everyone abhorred him, but Schlatt saw beyond that. A businessman through and through, he saw jobs springing up left and right. No longer was Nikki the sole store owner, and no longer did she have to bear the weight of heavy taxation. Children were finally going to school, and teenagers were finally allowed to be just that. Teenagers. 

A light knock sounded at his door, and Schlatt straightened up, and dusted off his suit. "Come in." 

A mop of brown hair with a pair of blue eyes peeked through the doorway, an easy smile adorning his face. “Hey Mr. President, Quackity, Nikki, and I are going out for some breakfast- wanna come along?”

This was an aspect of Schlatt’s life that he never expected to change. He expected the teen to hate him with a passion, just as much as Nikki would, or turn his back on the goat hybrid as George did, or give him the cold shoulder as did Fundy. Everyone hated him, and while he so desperately wanted to change that- Marburg needed a president like him, someone with tough skin to set the precedent to what needs to get done. He had made the country into what it was now, a bustling land of peace with set trades into the Dream SMP. Heck, he had personally seen to it that a team of financial advisors made sure that the economy wouldn’t slump into some depression. 

His name was going to be remembered, but for all the wrong reasons. And he had long convinced himself that that was alright. 

“Fuck no. I got some very important matters to attend to. Why aren’t you in class?” Another new development, he forced the kid into a few class courses, along with dragging Quackity to college- much to the protest of many. 

“Uhh… Today is a holiday? Halloween Eve, Hallow’s Eve?” Tubbo’s eyes lit up suddenly, and suddenly he was looking up at him with a shit eating grin. “Don’t tell me you forgot?”

“No. Who the fuck celebrates that shit? When I was a kid we didn’t get a day off, much less for the Eve-” He was anything but convinced, but he let himself be humored. “Unless it was passed as a school holiday without my knowing…?”

“Listen here Mister Jebediah Schlatt-”  
“Never call me that ever again or god so help you-”

“The teachers made it a holiday! And who am I to disagree with the teachers, eh?” Tubbo laughed nervously. Schlatt huffed, shaking his head. “C’mon sir, don’t tell me you don’t like Halloween.”

“I don’t. Now shoo before I drag you to school by the ear.” He dismissed his right hand man with a roll of his eyes. 

“Are you free later then?” Tubbo blurted out, his stubbornness shining as he stood his ground. “It's just- Mister there’s this reallyyy cool haunted maze some upperclassmen are hosting with their families today, and Quackity and I are going to be hosting a movie night in the square tomorrow and- and-” 

“I would rather cheese grate my horns off than spend my precious time around high schoolers, Tubbo.” He was going to run late, and no longer was he humored by the teen’s presence. “Don’t you have friends to go with instead? Or was Tommy the only one who could stand you?”

Tubbo shrank away, any other words dying as soon as the words left his mouth. Schlatt tried to convince himself that he didn’t regret his words. Tommy was long gone, banished. What did Tubbo not get about that? He was sure a nice kid could snag another friend or two- or just follow Quackity and his friends around at fucking least. 

The silence was brutal, and Tubbo’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve got friends…” He mumbled, leaving Schlatt alone once more.

-

The thing about Manburg Schlatt wasn’t a fan of however, was how quickly word spread around. He just wanted a coffee, and, curse his better hearing, whispers followed. Side remarks to how rude he was to the members of his cabinet, to how he could be so cruel as to refuse to attend a Halloween celebration with the child of the White House. 

Eventually he ran into George, who wasn’t amused in the slightest.

“You just had to make it worse on us, huh?” George’s voice was tight, snippy, guarded. Not exactly mad just yet. “We can’t act like your PR team all the damn time, do you want everyone to hate you or something?”

“Everyone already hates me, what difference does this make?” He answered smoothly, sipping his coffee as he flipped the page in his newspaper. “If anything you should be more concerned about this breach of security. Who cares if Tubbo doesn’t have anyone to go with him to some stupid scary maze when someone possibly bugged my room.” 

George slammed his fist on the coffee table, making the barista across the empty shop jump, and just for a second, he saw the same fury everyone would see in himself. “It’s taken care of, now if you were to stop and think for a second, it would be better for all of us if you apologized to Tubbo. Swallow that pride and say sorry.” 

“And then what? Hang out with the nerd and acne ridden teens? I can just hire him a body guard or something.” He looked up, disinterested as George shook his head. 

“You’re heartless. You can’t even give a kid who’s gone to war a day off? Can’t swallow your pride? Can’t be seen outside your castle of tyranny or something? No fucking wonder you have horns. You are worse than heartless, actually, you’re demonic.” And with that, the man left Schlatt to his devices. 

“Demonic?” Schlatt muttered to himself, and in the corner of his eye, he saw the barista nod fervently. 

“... good.” 

-

Quackity was the next to come find him, although it was unavoidable. A better way to phrase that would be that they had to stand next to each other as they listened to a group of architect’s proposal to remodel the square. And they didn’t get to speak until they were both sure the architects were gone. 

He was uncharacteristically serious for a moment before exhaling tiredly. Schlatt didn’t comment as he filtered through the papers left for him to go over. Did he care about his vice president’s opinions of him? He had never done so before, why would he start now? 

Finally, Quackity spoke, an edge of betrayal to his voice. “Yanno… I really thought you were finally dropping the cold hearted act. I thought that, if we play nice and follow orders, you’d loosen up. But I’m starting to think you’re a hollow shell of a man who’s never felt humanity. I wish Wilbur was still around.”

Schlatt didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to as Quackity continued on. “The journalist who bugged your room is awaiting trial, by the way. We found him after he was caught trying to whisper to some news press in SMP. Just… Don’t get involved. Let the court do its thing for once.”

“What, do you think I’ll banish the fucker or something? Cause I’ll fucking do it if I wanna. I don’t even know what the fucker wrote about me-” Schlatt felt his anger rising finally. This was an invasion of HIS privacy, how could he not get involved? “For all I know, he wrote me out to be some fucking cr-”

“Oh for fucks sake you senile man! Here-” Quackity slammed his briefcase down, and took out a newspaper clipping. “You can’t keep it. I have to deliver that to the judge.” 

Schlatt took the paper, and skimmed through it, disgust filling him with every word his eyes caught. “This is borderline slander! A defamation of my character! I want that man out of my fucking country!” Quackity snatched back the paper, backing away, watching Schlatt with careful eyes. “I’m not some fucking manipulator, I would never fucking threaten to beat my right hand man seriously- much less HIT THE KID, I want this man gone! Fucking GONE-” 

Schlatt took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose- and if he were a bull hybrid, smoke would’ve left him. Quackity shook his head, backing away more before silently leaving. Breathing heavily, he ran a hand through his hair, anger still running through his veins.

“I want him banished.”

-

He found Tubbo in his room in the White House. He looked somber, but at least he wasn’t all droopy and mopey. He wasn’t even dressed in the dumb bee outfit he had gotten made specifically for the kid.

He didn’t knock to make his presence known. “Get dressed. We’re going to that stupid ass maze.”

Tubbo’s head shot up from where he was immersed in typing away at his laptop, his voice high and nervous as he stammered out, “Oh! I, uh… I’m going later with Fundy- Yeah… with Fundy!”

Schlatt shook his head, eyes narrowing. “No you’re not. You’re not even dressed and Fundy has some business in Dream SMP right now. Get dressed, I’ll meet you downstairs in 10.”

He left before he could hear if Tubbo protested or not. What he did hear was Quackity’s laughter ringing out through the halls after about 8 minutes. A yell soon followed, sounding awfully like “Bees are cool, asshole!”

A minute later and Tubbo nearly walked past him, focused on keeping the headband with bee antennae to stay put. It wasn’t exactly the costume you’d see from a teenager on halloween, but bees fit Tubbo well enough that the costume was only mildly ridiculous to look at. The only redeeming part being that it was more of an outfit than an actual costume, really. 

“There’s my secretary of state, I knew getting a tailor was the best call.” He nodded, catching Tubbo off guard yet again. Though this time he seemed to have kept himself together as he pointed an accusing finger.

“You’re not wearing a costume!” Yeah, ten minutes did Tubbo some good to regain some of his attitude, though he did look a tad uneasy with how he fiddled with the bee patch on his overalls.

“Very observant of you.” Schlatt nodded, not seeing any reason to point out the fact. He’s a successful businessman with a net worth in the millions and held more power than anyone could ever dream of. He was scary enough as is. Heck if he wanted to take a jab at politics he could say that he was dressed as a clown. He didn’t need a costume. 

But Tubbo looked mildly disgusted, hands frozen from fiddling. “It’s Hallow’s Eve- you have to wear a costume!”

“I don’t have to do shit. If anything you’re going into that maze and I’ll wait outside and make sure you don’t get jumped or offered any alcohol.” He shook his head, his words lighthearted. The entire country was founded by drug distributors, and he was worried over a sip of alc, it was only a little funny to him. 

“Aw, what about in the maze though,” He grinned, although there was something in his body language that made Schlatt think that this was a very genuine question. “What if a bunch of mobs spawn and BAM” His hands flew around as he began to talk with his hands as well. “A creeper explodes!” He rushed that part so fast that it took a second for the words to register in his head.

A few conclusions formed in his head. Either Tubbo forgot about the existence of ender pearls, he’s scared of monsters, or that the kid had some separation anxiety. He was willing to bet on the last one. The secretary of state was never not seen without someone else at his side in public. 

He had caused that, didn’t he?

“Yeah? I guess you’re right then.” It was one night out of the entire year, he reasoned. What could go wrong? “But I’m not getting into some costume.”

“But-”

“No buts. Afterwards we’ll get you a happy meal or something.” He deadpanned, not expecting to be dragged out by his subordinate who used to to be fucking terified straight by him. 

“Make it two and it's a deal!”

Schlatt looked back at the White House, catching sight of Quackity at the foot of the door, watching him expectantly, and from a window- George. And for some reason, he couldn’t read either of their emotions. Schlatt thinks bitterly that they must be waiting for him to lose his shit again. And maybe they are, as Quackity gives a tight lipped smile.

He looked back to where he was going, rolling his eyes. “Behave and I’ll make it three.” 

Tubbo snorted, and Schlatt saw his eyes lighten up just a tad. "You bet, old man." 

"I’m not old." 

"Says the man who can't even handle his liquor anymore!" 

"Says the kid who can't even drink liquor." 

And so their walk followed as suit, their banter blending in with the noise of the night. And by the time the corn maze was visible in the distance, Tubbo was ranting about some random accident that occured in his chemistry course. Something about burning marshmallows and some kid burning an entire s’more? In all honesty, Schlatt did not care. Couldn’t care less about these antics. 

“And so our teacher had to call this guy's parents, but the burner was still on next to me! And I couldn’t even get up, but I didn't get burned surprisingly! Some of my hair singed but I needed a haircut anyways-” There was something awfully domestic about this, and Schlatt would’ve been off put if not for small details catching his interest.

“Why couldn’t you get up though?” He asked, now on the road directly to the entrance of the maze. 

“Well, that same guy is a real prankster yanno?” Tubbo’s excitement dimmed a bit. “It wasn’t bad or anything, quite funny actually, he had put some soul sand on my chair before I sat down and well… You know soul sand isn’t easy to brush off.”

“So it would’ve looked like you shat your pants?”

“Precisely. It was sorta funny looking back on it.” Schlatt didn’t mention how Tubbo’s words implied how he thought that it wasn’t funny at the time. He concluded that Tubbo was just embarrassed then.

“What about the teacher? Isn’t that called child endangerment or something? Child neglect?”

“It’s a class of twenty, she can’t be everywhere at o-”

“Tickets please.” An older kid, no older than maybe Quackity’s age, sat tiredly at a pathetic admissions desk in front of the maze. He was dressed as a very poor interpretation of a zombie pigman, and god, did Schlatt not miss those years of teen depression and fatigue. “Price goes up five dollars if you didn’t buy one earlier.” 

“Yeah I know,” Tubbo mumbled, digging into his pockets, before handing two tickets to the sad sack of a soul manning the front of the maze. 

“Cool. Safe word is ‘Red.’ Goal is to get out before the reapers kill ya.” He yawned. “Uh, not actually kill. You’ll get tagged with a red sharpie and an actor will lead you out. Make it out safely and your prize is a snack of your choosing at the end.” 

The game was so incredibly juvenile to Schlatt, but he held back any complaints when he saw Tubbo’s eager nodding. A silly game with a dumb prize. Schlatt supposed there had to be some challenge to this game if a safe word was needed, but maybe this was why Tubbo wanted him to come. The pigman wasn’t exactly detailed in his descriptions. 

“C’mon mister- I hear they made the maze bigger than they had planned!” He could see the kid practically buzzing with energy now, and he had to admit, it was a bit contagious. This… wasn’t as bad as he imagined, he realized after wandering in the maze after a minute. 

He half expected the place to look trashy, imagining that the more rebellious kids would use the maze as a place to drink and who the fuck knows what else, but the dirt paths were well swept. Neat work coming from a bunch of teenagers who, if he had remembered correctly, went to the same school as Tubbo. Now, normally, Schlatt wouldn’t care, however, the weight of the day was already proving to be much on him. Tomorrow there’ll be hell to pay and he knows it. If he thought the hushed whispers behind his back were annoying now, tomorrow it would be migraine-inducing. Schlatt bitterly cursed the free press. Sure, he could convict the man of slander on top of everything else, or yanno- banish the motherfucker… 

But would it really be worth it? Would that even solve anything? 

And why should he care if it did? 

“Tubbo, I think I fucked up for reals this time.” The words were acid on his tongue. The pain of admitting it tasted worse than cow shit. And the look on the kid’s face was the cherry on top, as he was pulled back to the present, having been buzzed with excitement this entire time. Of course he didn’t expect the sudden mood shift. 

“I ruined my own reputation beyond repair, and I think this might’ve been the last straw.” Schlatt was more so musing to himself as he kept his head high, feeling Tubbo’s gaze fall on him. 

“Well sir, I don’t see the great fuss about it. Cause… yeah you hurt my feelings but, well, I’ve come to expect that from you.” Schlatt bit his tongue from snapping a remark at him. Not the time. “There are way worse things you could've done. And well… I don’t know.” 

“Did you not read the paper?” Schlatt looked down at him, and Tubbo wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“People still read the paper? God, you ARE a senile man. I was in the room, you boomer. I don’t need the paper if I already forgive you.” Schlatt felt some piece of himself relax at that, that some old, withered part of his soul found peace in. If anything, at least one person didn’t think he was soulless. 

“And if it makes you feel better, it’s gonna blow over. It’s only because everyone expects the worst of you that everything seems so…” Tubbo waved his hands around, “big and bad. Plus you haven't done anything extraordinarily bad lately so…” 

“Besides, I thought you didn’t care about public opinion, huh?” The question wasn’t sarcastic, as he had been expecting. “You started your presidency off with a bang and now- now you care about what people think? I forgive you because this is nothing compared to everything else, and you can try to act nice all you want today but- but it’s too late to make amends for everything you’ve done. You can’t have a clean slate anymore, Schlatt. Not anymore. Not at this point.”

Silence. 

“Kid-” 

An arrow whizzed past his reaching hand, halting him from patting Tubbo’s shoulder and any words dying in his throat. Dumbfounded, he stared at the arrow that embedded itself into a corn stalk, its head completely hidden. His mind raced as he grabbed Tubbo’s arm in a tight grip and ran, hearing another arrow whistle behind them. 

“Reapers!” Tubbo screamed, mixed emotions filling the night sky. Slight fear and confusion most evident. “To the left!”

He didn’t question it, and made a sharp turn left. He wasn’t the athletic type in the sense that years of smoking and alcohol wore him down, and his intuition for these types of situations hadn’t been the best for a very long time. That is to say, Schlatt wasn’t thinking of this as a joke. 

“What fucking type of sick joke is this- I thought this was a glorified game of tag!” He yelled, making another sharp turn, his internal compass fucking up as his vision was constantly filled with green stalks, and a black night sky like some fucked up fever dream. Another arrow whistled, and he heard Tubbo breathe sharply. “Kid?”

He pulled the kid in front of him, stopping and preparing to see blood, but as Tubbo stumbled to catch his balance from stopping abruptly, he only saw a huge tear in the side of his overalls. Only a thin red line showing through, and Schlatt thanked whichever god had forsaken him that it was just a scratch. “I’m fine, don’t worry I’m-” 

This time it was Tubbo trying to grab at his arm, trying to book it the fuck out of there, and they had only made it a few paces before a cloaked figure burst through the wall in front of them, an arrow pointed at them. Crazed eyes trained on them, he stepped closer and they both stumbled back, Schlatt nearly tripping over himself as another, but taller, figure appeared behind them. A familiar skull mask greeted him with a nod as they aimed a crossbow at the pair.  
“Sorry for grazing you Tubbo- running targets have never been my strong suit.” Schlatt didn’t want to turn his back on either one of these fuckers, but that voice- 

“Wilbur? Oh my god Wilbur you’ve got to be kidding me, I thought someone was trying to kill us!” Tubbo let out a breathy laugh, and Schlatt hated the way he sounded relieved when there's literal arrows pointed at them both. “Uhm… what are you guys doing in Manburg though…?” 

“Oh Tubbo…” Wilbur didn’t loosen his grip on his arrow, or lower his aim at all, but the faint outline of his face became clearer in the night. “You know, you’ve always been aloof. Never getting the point, or reading the room when you really should. But you’re not dumb, not in a long shot, are you? You know why Techno and I are here.”

Tubbo immediately shook his head, fear evident in his body language as he tried to stand his own ground. Schlatt didn’t care, he’s had enough of this situation, he didn’t want it to escalate any further. And damn him if he was about to let a lunatic gaslight his right-hand man. He had heard wild tales that the founding father of L’Manburg had lost it, and he had believed it out of smugness that Wilbur was a crazy son of a bitch, but never did he think that the rumor was actually true. In these sparring seconds, he saw the loose screws, and realized how fitting it was for the Blade to have joined his side. Anarchy will always follow chaos and vice versa. “I thought I told you to never fucking show your face here, Wilbur. Techno I-”

The masked man shook his head, steadying his aim, and Wilbur began to shake with suppressed laughter, giggles leaving him in random bursts. “God, no wonder the country hates you. On top of everything, you’re an idiot Schlatt, everyone knows it. But you see, the part that hurts me the most isn’t that you stole everything from me, it’s that you also stole everyone’s trust from me. Tommy doesn’t trust me anymore, treating me as if I’m some old geezer, and Fundy… You took my son, my pride and joy, and you made him into your soldier!” His voice raised at the end, and the crazed smile fell into a blank slate, any emotion covered carefully. “And Tubbo… Oh you were the last person I expected to lose… I’ve always been there for you… But it’s not too late! God- I know it’s not… Cause you still hate him, right? You hate Schlatt. Cause he DID take everything from you… and I know it cause I’ve been watching, and Techno’s been helping lots here, you see. I know you’re miserable, right? You’re miserable, god just say it please, just fucking say it. SAY IT. SAY YOU HATE IT HERE. SAY YOU HATE SCHLATT!” 

The blank face quickly morphed into one of anger as Wilbur finally lowered his bow, and with desperate motions, tore off his cloak. It was then that Schlatt saw the tears riveting down the man’s face. 

“That’s enough!” His own voice boomed, not sure who to perceive as a bigger threat. Techno the Blood God or one gaslighting maniac. Both weren’t good chances. “You just don’t seem to get it Wilbur, you’ve lost! You lost the moment you let me form a coalition, you smooth brained motherfucker! What is one kid’s opinion gonna change for you, huh? If he hates me, fucking fine, you can rub that shit in my face all the fuck you want! But the fact of the matter here is that no matter what, he’s got a life here! He knows I’m an ass, and really, what’s stopping him from leaving if he really wanted to?”

“JFKing me is only going to show him that you’re the bad guy, Wilbur. Anyone who missed you will know you left my fate in a child’s hands and they’ll think the same of you.” He watched with some satisfaction as Wilbur stood, eyes widening and hands slightly shaking. 

“Tubbo?” Techno’s first word here, stern as he stepped forward. “You don’t have to choose here, kiddo.”

“Techno!” Wilbur began to grin, but the shake in his hands hadn’t left yet. “What a brilliant idea…”

“That wasn’t an idea, Wilbur. Maybe we sho-”

“NO- no… Listen. Tubbo... you don’t have to choose between me and him, alright?” Tubbo nodded his head, words failing to come to him. “You won’t have to choose… Because you’re going instead! Oh my god, it’s perfect! Blame the murder on Schlatt, and- and he’s sure to be exiled! Then I can finally come back!” Hysterical laughter began to leave the crazed man, as if this was some funny bit to him. And it was evident that not even Techno found this funny, as his crossbow lowered, head cocking to one side in concern. 

“Yeah… Tubbo…?” Wilbur took aim once more, and the night seemed to freeze, and the bugs ceased to buzz as his grin shrank to a small, sad smile. His tears were dried up. “Say hi to god.” 

.  
.  
.

Schlatt hated how sluggish he seemed to move. Hated how, for a fraction of a second before, he was frozen. He hated how annoying the whistle of the arrow flying sounded. He hated how roughly he shoved Tubbo into the wall of corn stalks. He hated Techno’s frozen form, and how those blood red eyes met his own maroon eyes. He hated how a pain flared in his chest. How he hit the ground. How Wilbur’s laugh sounded. How red his hand looked when he touched his chest to feel where the pain was coming from. How he heard Tubbo scream “Red.” How he felt his throat grow raw and sore yelling for Tubbo to run- just fucking run god damn you. He hated it all. Fuck it, he hated everything. Everything was red. He hated hell. He was going to hell. 

He was going to say hi to satan himself. 

The last he saw was a teary faced Tubbo, his mouth moving, but no sound reached his ears. 

-

Schlatt eventually came to, waking up to his own bed rather than outside the fiery gates of hell. Colors filled his vision as his vision focused, noticing his bedside first. Flowers adorned his usually empty bedside, colorful vases wrapped in bows or with burlap. The second thing he noticed was the IV. Its chrome poles offending compared to the dark wood furnishings of his room. The third thing? The third thing he noticed was the amount of people in his goddamn room. 

“Get the fuck out.” His voice was raspy from lack of use, and from barely waking up, but it still got the attention of everyone, heads snapping to stare. It was Tubbo who reacted first, appearing at his bedside in a second, hands hovering, before awkwardly latching on to him in a weird hug. His first reaction was to shove the bugger off, but as he lifted his arm, he hissed in pain, feeling the tightly wrapped bandages around his chest trying to hold him back as well.

As fast as the noise left him, Tubbo was off in an instant, apologizing profusely as he still hovered. “Oh my god I’m sorry, fuck, You’re still in pain, right, I’m sorry! It’s just- Oh man Schlatt I’m sorry, you scared me and i thought you were gonna die! And then you wouldn’t wake up and I just…” Fundy placed a paw on Tubbo’s shoulder, offering a small smile. “He was really worried for you.” he finished for Tubbo.

“He nearly died because of me! It’s my…” The words trailed off as Fundy led Tubbo out of the room, mouthing a quick ‘Get well soon,’ before he fully left. And with that, Schlatt’s vision finally settled on the two forms of Quackity and George, both in separate corners of the room. 

“I lived bitches.” Schlatt smiled. His brain was foggy and he rather not dwell on his very present memories, so he did what he did best, and made a shit joke. “God can’t get rid of me that easily!”

George spoke first, solemn eyes trained on him, his clout goggles on his head for a change. “Tubbo told us everything. Every single detail after he woke up.”

“Woke up?” Schlatt sat up, ignoring the sharp paine in his chest. “He was hurt?” he wheezed out, his vision threatening to white out.

“No. According to him, Techno and Wilbur fled right after. I checked up on him, so don’t worry.” Quackity sat on the edge of his bed, and Schlatt didn’t like how pained and tired his face looked. 

“It was the stress of it all. He slept for hours after, and then he just… wouldn’t leave your side.” George shook his head, “Listen, Quackity and I wanted to apologize. We talked to Tubbo and thought about it while you guys were gone and…”

“We’re sorry. You have been making improvements to your character and it really wasn’t fair to just think that-”

Schlatt shook his head, not willing to hear it as he laid down once more. “Don’t bother. All is forgiven”

“Schlatt…”

“Yanno, I think Tubbo made me accept something. I’m never gonna have a clean slate anymore. I’m a pretty rotten dude, I won’t be able to fix everything now.” He sighed, letting himself relax into his covers. “I’ve just gotta make do with that now. I can’t blame you for thinking that I’m terrible when I really am.”

Quackity bit his lip, and shook his head. 

“You saved someone instead of saving yourself. Terrible rotten people don’t do that.”

George nodded in agreement. “You may be an ass, but you were willing to die for our little bro. That counts for something.” 

“You’re not terrible.”

And if Schlatt smiled at that, it would be a national secret kept under oath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea if u can see, my faves are schlatt, tubbo, and quackity


End file.
